


touch me (make me feel like I am human again)

by Anxious_Octopus



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, During season 2, F/F, One Shot, Post-Season 2, Smut, season 3 setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:03:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxious_Octopus/pseuds/Anxious_Octopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short clexa one shot based off of this tumblr post:</p><p>"could you imagine if every time someone masturbated over you, you orgasmed when they did?! like some hot as girl walking down the street bam knees buckle. or ariana grande is on stage and all of a sudden is uncontrollably moaning. make the world a more interesting place" </p><p>http://yourethecommander.tumblr.com/post/137331756931/tinderstaff-could-you-imagine-if-every-time</p>
            </blockquote>





	touch me (make me feel like I am human again)

**Author's Note:**

> (title is from A Little Death by the Neighbourhood)
> 
> Hold onto your butts for season 3 guys.

The first time it happens, Clarke is laying on her bed, trying desperately to find a way out of the situation placed before her. Meeting the Grounder Commander had been a completely different experience than what she was expecting, and a little surprising. Not, of course, that their Commander was a woman, but at how young she was to be leading such a large army. Despite her age, Lexa had shown herself to be a formidable leader in their brief interaction. Not to mention strikingly beautiful. But Clarke knows she can’t think about that, not with an army on their doorstep. And yet, the way Lexa’s fingers had held her knife with such precision, the way her eyes had bored into Clarke’s and her voice had demanded obedience... Clarke shivers.

It had been a risky plan to begin with, hoping that her mother could save Lincoln. But it had worked. Lexa had been amazed at Lincoln’s recovery, as had the other Grounders. It had been written clearly on their faces. And in that instant, Clarke had let herself believe that they had reached an understanding, that no more blood needed to be shed. Until they had returned to the Grounder camp.

“Deliver me the one you call Finn,” Lexa had told her. “Our truce begins with his death.”

Crawling into her bed, Clarke lets her eyes drift shut, waiting for sleep. There was no clear way out of this mess, not now. She needed to sleep on it and approach it again in the morning. She thinks of Lexa. Striking in her black war paint and armor, her gaze as piercing as the dagger she held at their first meeting. Not someone Clarke wanted as an enemy. Even now they we’re only tentative allies, their truce resting on the edge of a knife.

She begins to doze off, thoughts of Finn’s fate replaced with memories of Lexa’s eyes on hers. Measuring her, no doubt. Taking stock of her new ally. Clarke wonders if she will fall asleep to the thought of those sharp, green eyes, when she feels a heat building between her legs. Before she has time to think on it, her body is on fire, and her back arches in pleasure that seems to have no source. She covers her mouth, afraid she might cry out, although not at all in pain. She rides out the orgasm, her eyes shut and her free hand bracing against the wall behind her head. When it comes to an end, she lays panting in her sheets, sweat coating her. While it was probably the strangest orgasm she’d ever had, with nothing leading up to it, it was not at all unpleasant. She drifts off to sleep shortly after, Finn and Lexa forgotten and the puzzling event soon lost to dreams. The next day, when she discreetly asks Raven if she’s ever experienced something similar, the mechanic simply laughs and tells her to watch out for her secret admirer. Clarke has no idea what to make of it but there’s no time to dwell on it anyways. The demand for Finn’s death still stands.

 

* * *

The second time it happens, it happens at the most inappropriate time. Clarke is leaning her head against the wall of her bedroom, trying not to think about the way it felt to push her blade into Finn’s side. The way he thanked her before his body went limp. Her eyes hurt from crying, and her hands are scrubbed raw (although they still feel stained). She knows she needs to get ready. They leave for TonDC tonight, but her mind isn’t letting her off the hook. Not after what she’s done. Raven’s face flashes in front of her eyes: pained, enraged, and heartbroken. Lexa’s voice echoes in her skull.

“Blood has answered blood. Some on my side say that is not enough. They wanted the murderer to suffer, as our tradition demands. But they do not know that your suffering will be worse.”

Clarke lets out a heavy sigh, her forehead resting against the cool metal. She inhales and exhales deeply a few times in an attempt to calm her racing thoughts. It works, and she enters a sort of trance, leaning against the wall, pushing every thought out of her mind. Her soul may as well have left her body, and she thinks briefly that she might get through the night after all. That’s when it hits her.

It’s so unexpected that her knees buckle and her legs seem to have turned to rubber. The orgasm rips through her, out of nowhere, and she knows, she knows in the back of her mind that its so wrong. Its so wrong but as she bites her lip to keep from groaning and her back tenses with the effort of staying upright, she can’t help but think it feels so good too. Blood rushes to her core, her body coming apart to touches that aren’t there, and she whimpers through her teeth.

This one lasts longer than the first one, but eventually it does end. When it does, she exhales shakily and stumbles over to her bed, collapsing instantly. She still feels a dull pulse between her legs, like the aftershocks of an earthquake, and wonders if there is some kind of medical explanation for these erratic orgasms. She decides that its not something she can ask her mother. She lets her body recover for a few minutes, before pulling herself up and gathering her things. Knowing the Grounder’s are preparing to depart, she drags herself off the bed, staggering under the weight of her actions, the pleasure of a few minutes ago already lost to bitter guilt.

 

* * *

There isn’t another one until several days after reaching TonDC. It hits her a day or two after the Pauna incident with Lexa. While she obviously isn’t prepared for it, when it hits her she finds herself thinking of tall trees, green moss, and brown hair.

She confronts Raven again, demanding a more detailed answer from the girl as to what the hell is happening (not that she really minds, if she’s being honest). Raven laughs again (Clarke thinks it is nice to hear the sound, after all the mechanic has been through), and tells her that the orgasms she’s having that seem to come out of nowhere only occur if someone else is “rubbing one out to the thought of your sweet, sweet body”. Clarke’s jaw drops and Raven only laughs harder. When she finally gets her head wrapped around the idea that someone, somewhere, thinks about her while they masturbate, Clarke resolves to not enjoy the next orgasm as much as she’d enjoyed the last.

(It doesn’t work).

 

* * *

Clarke is walking down a hallway in the Ark when another orgasm comes unannounced. She has just left her mother with Emerson, still unconscious after they captured him on their way back from TonDC. It had been strange, to discover the pictures of her and Lexa in his bag, marking them as the Mountain Men’s targets. Once the initial shock of being hunted had faded, Clarke had thought about the photos themselves. The mountain was always watching, it seemed.

She hadn’t realized how often she was around Lexa these days. In reality, it was necessary, as she had become the ambassador of the Sky People in their truce with the Grounders. Yet, she couldn’t help but think that were they not at war, she would still enjoy the time she spent with the Commander. Lexa is strong and fiercely loyal to her people, qualities Clarke admires.

As she rounds a corner, the unexpected feeling of coming undone makes her gasp, and she staggers, supporting herself against the wall. She’s incredibly thankful that the hallway is empty, as she sinks to one knee and moans under her breath. Her body moves on its own, and she can’t help it when she throws her head back and shudders in pleasure. She can’t help it when she sees Lexa’s eyes in her mind, measuring her, taking in every inch of her like she is under a microscope. She feels naked under those eyes. The thought makes her bite her lip. That train of thought is dangerous. And yet, her body is still buzzing, her brain still muddled, and she wonders for a brief instance if Lexa’s ever feels the weight of Clarke’s stare. If her gaze ever makes the Commander feel naked. She shivers.

 

* * *

 

 Lexa pulls on Clarke’s arm, turning her in the darkness of the woods.

“If he’s a spotter, he’s here to make sure we’re dead. If he tells the mountain we’re alive-”

“He won’t,” Clarke says, cutting the other woman off.

“How can you be sure?” the Commander replies. In the distance, the spotter’s gun sounds and voices shout from the burning village.

“Because I’m gonna kill him.”

They look at each other, each measuring the other’s reaction. Lexa doesn’t tell Clarke to stop. She doesn’t say anything, and Clarke wonders briefly if that means she is impressed. Then she turns and begins her search for the gunman.

When they find him, it is with Lincoln at their side. The sniper is shooting at their hiding place, and Lincoln offers to draw his fire.

“No,” Clarke interjects, “I will.”

For an instant Lexa looks almost worried, but Clarke doesn’t think on it as she rounds the boulder and fires on the gunman.

When Clarke puts a bullet in the man’s chest, it doesn’t make her feel better. What does, though, is the orgasm that hits her later that night as she sits on a chair in her tent. Not for the first time, she wonders who is thinking about her. Has it always been the same person, or has her reputation garnered her the infatuation of others. She doesn’t try to hold back the sigh that escapes her at the pleasure coursing through her veins. She doesn’t try to stop the thought of Lexa grasping her arm when she found her in the woods. Lexa’s strong grip, making her stop in her tracks. Keeping her from running to the gunman without thinking. Keeping her grounded. The same grip she’d once held on that dagger, at their first meeting. Deft fingers, working the edge of the blade. Strong hands, deft fingers… Clarke sighs almost unconsciously.

 

* * *

 As they get closer to Mount Weather, there are fewer moments of pleasure for Clarke, and she wonders if her masked, masturbating friend is a soldier. Battle preparations would explain the sudden halt to the habit. She is grateful for it, as she’s been spending more and more time with Lexa, and an unannounced orgasm in the Commander’s presence is about the most embarrassing thing she imagines could ever happen. Not too mention she’s having a hard time ignoring the thoughts that cross her mind when the orgasms do hit her; green eyes, black war paint, long fingers. Up until now she has kept those thoughts, those desires buried deep inside. One of the unexpected climaxes could bring it all to the surface. In Lexa’s presence, it was a terrifying idea.

That being said, Lexa’s presence is its own source of pleasure, in a different way. They talk leader to leader, mostly discussing the upcoming battle, but on rare occasions Lexa indulges her with different topics of conversation: Grounder traditions and past battles. The workings of the clans. Clarke is grateful. The information will surely come in handy. And conversation with Lexa is… nice.

When Lexa calls for Octavia to be taken out, however, Clarke is swiftly reminded that however alike they may be, they still have vastly different approaches to command. They are inside Lexa’s tent, just the two of them, when Clarke confronts her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Clarke demands, marching towards Lexa. “You can’t just kill everyone you don’t trust!”

“Yes I can,” Lexa answers, walking away from Clarke.

“Well I won’t let you.”

“You were willing to let her die two days ago,” Lexa says, almost nonchalantly. “Nothing has changed.”

“You’re wrong,” Clarke retorts, making Lexa look up at her. “I have. I can’t do this anymore.”

She turns and begins to walk towards the entryway of the tent.

“Octavia is a threat. If you weren’t so close to her, you’d see that.”

Clarke rounds on Lexa, now standing next to her.

“It’s because I’m close to her, that I know she’s loyal. Her brother is more important to her than anyone. She would never endanger his life.”

Lexa eyes are weighing her again. “And you’re willing to risk everything on that? On your feelings?” The Commander’s eyebrow twitches upwards almost imperceptibly.

“Yes,” Clarke answers her firmly. “You say having feelings makes me weak, but you’re weak for hiding from them.” She doesn’t fail to notice the way Lexa’s jaw clenches before she continues.

“I may be a hypocrite Lexa, but you’re a liar-“

Clarke takes a step towards the Commander-

“You felt something for Gustus. You’re still haunted by Costia-“

Two steps now, and Lexa begins to retreat backwards-

“You want everyone to think you’re above it all, but I see right-“

Lexa’s back hits the table- 

“Through you.”

There is a pause, and then-

“Get out,” the Commander snarls, but Clarke isn’t finished yet.

“250 people died in that village, I know you felt for them. But you let them burn.”

Lexa’s eyes no longer hold the fury from a few seconds ago. She swallows thickly before-

“Not everyone. Not you.”

The admission catches Clarke off guard, and her eyes search the Commander’s face for any hint of a lie. Finding none, she takes half a step back.

“Well if you care about me, then… trust me. Octavia’s not a threat,” Clarke pleads.

“I can’t do that,” Lexa whispers.

The moment has passed, and Clarke makes her voice hard, “I can’t sacrifice my people anymore. If you do anything to hurt Octavia, I’ll tell everyone we knew about the missile.”

She holds Lexa’s gaze, turning to leave. She can’t help the way her eyes dart to the Commander’s lips before she turns and walks out of the tent. Once outside, she looks back over her shoulder briefly, and has to take a deep breath before continuing to walk away. She’s not prepared for the way her heart beats so hard or how her breathing becomes so heavy. More than once she’d caught the Commander stealing glances at her lips. And when she didn’t, Lexa’s eyes still held Clarke’s with such intensity that she wondered how she didn’t melt from the heat of it.

Not for the first time, unbidden thoughts come to her mind, thoughts that had started to creep in during those rare moments when she came undone without the touch of another. Lexa was undoubtedly beautiful, but Clarke was drawn to more than just her physical appearance. The Commander was committed to her people, prepared to do whatever it took to protect them. But she could see reason, at least Clarke thought she could, even as untrusting as she was. And she cared deeply, even if she didn’t want to admit it. She cared deeply about Clarke, and that had been said out loud. That alone was enough to make Clarke’s heart pound.

When Lexa kisses her before they go to war, its soft and gentle. It is Clarke who pulls away. She needs more time, and Lexa nods in understanding. The horn sounds, and they march on the mountain. As they walk, Clarke thinks about the kiss they shared. She’d been taken by surprise when Lexa had moved toward her and pulled her close. Her body had reacted before her mind could, and she kissed Lexa back, unaware until that moment of how much she’d wanted it. She gives a thought to the few times she’d had those unannounced orgasms sneak up on her, and she thinks about how many times she’d let the pleasure consume her as thoughts of Lexa flitted through her mind. She wonders for an instant when it started: the slow, unadmitted feelings for the Commander. She wonders if Lexa ever gets the random orgasms. She wonders if she touched herself and thought of Lexa, if—she shuts the thought out immediately. Not an appropriate train of thought with the Commander so near. Not an appropriate train of thought ever. They are two leaders whose sole duty is to their people. And the mountain is waiting.

 

* * *

 

After Mount Weather, Clarke leaves Camp Jaha. She sets out on her own, with no purpose or path in mind. Her admirer hasn’t thought about her since before the mountain, and she is glad. She is broken, angry, and haunted. She doesn’t want the pleasure, especially when it is so jarring. She doesn’t want to feel at all.

 

* * *

 

After 3 weeks, there still hasn’t been one. She begins to think that whoever this person is, they must think that she is dead. Or else they have found somebody new for their fixation. She breathes deeply and thinks if feels sort of liberating, finally being let go.

 

* * *

 

After 3 months, she doesn’t remember what they even felt like. She only knows the feelings of biting hunger in her gut, bitter cold on her face, and aching muscles when she sleeps. She stopped thinking of home long ago. She stopped thinking about everything, except her next meal, her next camp, and the mountain. It always came back to the mountain. And the mountain always came back to Lexa. Whatever feelings had been there before the battle, she had pushed to keep them inside, waiting until it was over. Those feelings had stayed inside, however, after Lexa’s betrayal, Clarke forcing them deeper and deeper inside herself until they were almost completely buried. Now, the only feeling she permits herself to feel towards the Grounder Commander is burning fury. Something else is there, but it’s been too long and she’s turned too hard to acknowledge it anymore.

When she finds her way to a trading post, she meets Niylah. The grounder is pretty, understanding, and sympathetic. She is also the first human face Clarke has seen in months, besides the scouts she’s had to avoid now and then. She stays with the girl for several days. Clarke finds comfort in her arms, not realizing until that point how much she’d missed human interaction. It doesn’t take long for her to crave more than just conversation after 3 months in the wild. Soon enough, she’s kissing Niylah with a hungry mouth, and the Grounder doesn’t hesitate to kiss her back. When Niylah pushes her over the edge and she comes undone, its with real touches and Clarke wonders how she ever could’ve found pleasure in the orgasms that shattered her without warning and left without kissing her goodnight. She rides out this orgasm with eyes shut tight. She almost imagines, for a moment, green eyes and brown hair. She snaps her eyes open, and Niylah is there. She’s not sure if she’s relieved or disappointed (she doesn’t want to know) but she is certain that it can’t happen again. Letting down her walls, even physically, allows for too much to creep to the surface. Clarke leaves in the middle of the next night. She doesn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

She reunites with Lexa shortly after leaving the trading post. Roan, an Ice Nation bounty hunter, brings her to the city with her hands bound in ropes. Before he can escort her to his employer, Lexa’s guards intercept them, cutting Clarke’s bonds and bringing her to the Commander.

Their reunion is charged, in part due to the dagger Clarke presses to Lexa’s neck, but mostly due to the unsaid words that hang in the air. Lexa looks at Clarke like she is both the greatest gift and a painful memory. Clarke looks at Lexa like she wishes she could kill her. Her hands shake and her eyes slip to the Commander’s lips. Her grip tightens around the dagger, and she presses it more firmly to the Commander’s throat. Lexa still hasn’t said anything, but the way she stares into Clarke’s eyes makes her falter.

“I never meant to turn you into this,” Lexa breathes, pain lacing her voice so thickly that Clarke is surprised she gets the words out at all.

She blinks and can’t help the small gasp that escapes her lips. Lexa’s words are not an apology, but at the very least they are an admission of guilt. She knows what her actions at the mountain have done to Clarke.

Clarke staggers back, the dagger slipping from her grasp. It clatters to the stone floor, but her eyes stay on the Commander. She takes a step back, and then another, slowly backing towards the doorway. Before she can make a break for it, Lexa calls to her.

“Wait! Please…”

Lexa’s voice is so close to begging that it stops Clarke in her tracks.

“I can’t forgive you, Lexa.”

"Stay, please. Here, in Polis,” the Commander pleads. She doesn’t tell Clarke that she’s sorry, she doesn’t tell her that she needs her. Instead she simply offers Clarke a warm meal and a place to sleep.

“At least for a few days, Clarke,” and just like that Lexa is calm and commanding once again. “You are on the run. I only wish to offer you safety.”

“Safety isn’t four walls and guards, Commander. It’s me, as far away from you as possible.”

She says the words harshly, hoping each one is a knife in Lexa’s heart. From the look on the Commander’s face, it works. But despite how much she tries to block out anything but anger towards the woman, Lexa’s words remind her of a forest floor, months ago, where she’d slept. She remembers waking to the sound of the roaring Pauna, and Lexa’s voice behind her.

_“It’s okay. You’re safe.”_

Clarke stays.

 

* * *

 

They interact as little as possible at first, Lexa keeping clear of Clarke and Clarke not searching for her. Days go by, and Clarke spends her free time roaming the halls of the Commander’s home. She isn’t sure what the building used to be but its has long hallways, plenty of rooms, and a good chance of not running into anyone that she doesn’t want to see. After four days of being in Polis, she finds herself in another corridor she hasn’t explored yet. She runs her fingers along the stone walls, wondering how old the structure is. How many faces have those walls seen? How many impassioned lovers and bitter fights? How many deaths? She trails her fingers until she comes to a large tapestry that hangs on along the wall. It shows two children, both girls, standing in the woods and staring into the face of a two-headed deer. The next image is of the same two children, one with short black hair that curls out from her head in all directions, and one with long brown hair that reaches her waist, though she couldn’t be much older than ten. In this panel, the children are sparring, sort of. The brown haired girl has a wooden sword held at the other’s throat, her eyes narrowed in concentration. The black-haired girl is smiling softly and holding out a rock to her companion. It is grey flecked with blue.

Clarke continues along the tapestry, which she sees now is detailing the lives of these two children growing up. It isn’t until the brown-haired girl dons armor and braids her hair that Clarke recognizes with a start who she is. It’s further still down the artwork that she realizes who the other girl is as well. Lexa and Costia. The tapestry ends with the two girls embracing, one a tall, slender warrior with black war paint and blood spattered skin, the other a ghostly rendition of the black-haired girl with a long scar along her neck. Clarke averts her eyes. It seems too personal a moment to have displayed on the wall for anyone to see.

“Making yourself at home, Clarke?”

Clarke jumps at the voice, whipping around to find the owner. She hadn’t heard Lexa sneak up on her, and she curses herself for it.

“This is-“ she pauses. She doesn’t want to forgive Lexa. She doesn’t want to forget the pain the woman caused her. But the tapestry is overwhelming. “-it’s beautiful.”

Lexa doesn’t say anything, only nods sagely before turning to look at it herself. Practiced eyes gaze over it out of habit but don’t take anything in. She’s seen it a thousand times.

“We grew up together,” the Commander says, when she finally does speak. “We were inseparable. And when she was mine I cared for her more than I ever did for myself. When she was taken from me by the Ice Queen…“

Lexa pauses, looking away from the tapestry and refocusing her gaze on Clarke.

“Tomorrow there will be a… dispute to settle,” the Commander stares at her levelly. “As it was Roan who brought you to Polis, and he is of the Ice Nation, the Queen demands that you be released into her custody as her prisoner.”

Clarke’s eyes widen. She remembers what little Lexa has told her of the Ice Queen before Mount Weather. Of how she tortured and executed Costia, the person Lexa cared for most.

“I refused, of course,” Lexa continues, “which she objected was against our traditions. She has accused me of treason, more or less, without saying the word.”

“And now…?”

“Trial by combat, in a sense. I am to fight the Ice Queen’s representative over the accusation of treason, and to ensure that you do not end up in her possession.”

Clarke swallows hard. “Trial by combat meaning?”

"A fight to the death, Clarke.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke watches from the ring of onlookers as Lexa and Roan duel. She knows that she needs Lexa to win, lest she become the Ice Queen’s new pet. She’s not sure what fate would await her at the hands of Lexa’s nemesis, but she doesn’t want to risk finding out. So she watches with anxious eyes as Lexa fights for her. It makes Clarke blink when she realizes that is what it is. Lexa is fighting for her in the most obvious way possible, essentially declaring for all of Polis that Clarke is hers. Something stirs in a deep recess of Clarke’s mind, a feeling pushed so far inside herself that she’d almost forgotten it existed. And now its rumbling inside her, trying to claw to the surface. She keeps it at bay, but it gnaws at her as she watches the fight unfold.

Roan is skilled. When he kicks out Lexa’s knee and she falls, Clarke’s heart is in her throat, her fists clenched as she worries. Roan brings his sword down as Lexa throws her hand up, catching it mere inches from her face. Clarke winces as the sword draws blood from the Commander’s unprotected hand. Lexa snarls and pushes the man off balance, taking the chance to stand back up as he staggers slightly.

When the battle does end, its with Lexa driving both of her swords into Roan’s heart. She then takes his spear and launches it at the Coalition leaders seated nearby. The spear sinks deep into a banner draped over the back of the chair marking the Ice Nation’s leader. The Queen doesn’t even blink as the spear reverberates above her head. She just fixes her cold eyes on Lexa, and leaves.

Later that night, Clarke is laying in her bed in the small room Lexa set aside for her. She thinks about the duel. Lexa fought for her knowing full well that had their positions been switched, Clarke may not have been prepared to do the same. Not after the mountain. She shakes her head hurriedly, not wanting to pursue that train of thought. Instead, she remembers Lexa’s fluid movements in battle. The way she dual-wielded her swords in a fashion Clarke found frustratingly familiar, until she remembered that Anya had held swords like that, and she had been Lexa’s mentor.

Clarke shuts her eyes, still thinking about the other woman. She’d moved with a grace that Clarke would’ve found breathtaking if it hadn’t been done on the edge of someone else’s sword. That had knotted her stomach: Lexa dancing on the precipice of death. When she’d first come to Polis, she’d believed she wanted Lexa dead. But now…

She pictures the way she had caught Roan’s sword with her bare hand, as if unaffected by the blade- it sends shivers down Clarke’s spine. In her time in isolation, she’d almost forgotten how beautiful Lexa was. Almost. Now it was all coming back. Green eyes, black paint, brown hair. Strong hands, deft fingers.

Almost without realizing it, Clarke’s own hand trails down her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched herself. Not in her time in the wild, she’d been too tormented to even think of it. And before that- the erratic orgasms kept her satisfied. God, how those seemed ages ago. She briefly wonders what’s become of her admirer. She wonders, for an instant, who they’ve fixed on now. She dismisses the thoughts and lets her hand sink lower, settling between her thighs.

She breathes heavily before pressing down on her center. She feels her body react to the pleasure the contact brings, but its her mind that has the most jarring response. She sees Lexa, in her armor and hair wild, dueling with Roan. Clarke sighs as she rubs herself once more. Lexa, snarling at the man as she catches his sword with her bare hand. Lexa, driving swords through his heart, throwing the spear with the utmost precision. The way her body moved during the fight, whirling and sidestepping and slashing at her attacker. Clarke tilts her head back as she feels pressure building between her legs, her hand continuing its ministrations. She sees Lexa, armor and war paint and blood spattered hands, walking towards her. She watches the Commander’s hands come up, and then she’s pushing Clarke against an unseen wall, pressing their bodies together. She sees Lexa kiss her hard, not at all like their kiss a lifetime ago, before the mountain. Clarke imagines this kiss to be greedy and burning and-

"Fuck,” she groans, her fingers circling her clit now. She knows in the back of her mind that she should stop. She’s not even sure anymore what to make of the tangle of emotions she feels towards the Grounder Commander. But her body isn’t listening to her, and she doesn’t stop.

(A part of her is very, very glad).

She moans as she fucks herself, picking up in speed the closer she gets to the edge. Her thoughts become less coherent, but Lexa is there. Always Lexa. Something in her wonders if there was ever a time without Lexa. She can’t remember. And it doesn’t matter when it feels this good.

Her back arches and she can feel herself slipping over the edge, pleasure saturating every pore of her body. She’s about to let out a final moan and a shudder at the release, when a strangled cry comes from the hallway outside of her room. It snaps her to attention and she quickly stumbles out of bed, still panting and fingers sticky.

Reaching for her dagger, she gingerly opens her door. She’s shocked to find a very flustered Lexa in the hallway, leaning on the wall for support.

“Lexa?”

Her eyes meet Clarke’s, a display of sheer panic.

“Clarke, I- I wanted to speak to you but- maybe later,” the Commander gets out, and Clarke notices for the first time how red the woman’s face is, how the veins on her neck are more prominent than usual and how her breathing is labored as if-  and that’s when it hits her.

“Yes, later,” she replies to Lexa stiffly, before retreating back into her room and shutting the door firmly. She slides down the wood panel until she’s sitting, letting out a shaky sigh.

The fact that she’s just witnessed the Grounder Commander a few seconds after an orgasm is something she tries to ignore. But Lexa’s clenched jaw and wide eyes keep coming back to her. That strangled cry that had shocked her out of her own climax had been the sound of Lexa reaching hers. Part of her wants to commit it to memory, but most of her is wondering when her hatred for the Commander took a back seat to those old feelings of desire.

Clarke sighs again, pushes herself up, and resettles herself in bed. She only has a moment to pull the blanket over her legs before she feels her body tense and her blood rush as another orgasm takes her. She gasps in surprise, but it turns into a moan quick enough. She pushes one hand behind her, clutching at the bed’s wooden frame, and her toes curl as pleasure runs through her for the second time that evening. Her free hand goes to her mouth, and she bites down to keep from crying out. Once its passed, she is breathing heavily and stares at the ceiling without seeing. Despite the toll on her body, her mind is racing.

She had touched herself while thinking of Lexa, that was the only explanation for Lexa’s behavior in the hall: the Commander had felt the orgasm that Clarke was succumbing to in that moment. But for another orgasm to hit Clarke not 20 minutes later, and without so much as a brush of someone else’s hands on her skin…

Clarke shivers. Someone had been thinking about her as they touched themselves tonight. She knows it could be that old admirer, maybe feeling nostalgic. But, it seems far more likely, if not also entirely crazy, that it had been Lexa thinking of her. Lexa, coming undone at the thought of Clarke, maybe imagining Clarke’s hands touching her in places only lovers dared to touch. She knows she should push the image out of her mind, but as she drifts to sleep, Clarke can’t help but imagine what it would feel to lace her fingers through Lexa’s braids and kiss her hard.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, when Lexa barges into Clarke’s room unannounced, and Clarke is only in her ratty sports bra and dirty pants, she is less bothered by the sight of the Commander than she used to be, and more bothered that she doesn’t have half her clothes on. Or is she bothered because Lexa is staring at her, her eyes wide and looking much lower than they should be. Or is it that she is standing there half naked, but Lexa is fully clothed, which seems unfair to say that least.

Lexa snaps to attention and averts her gaze. Her cheeks are red and she quickly excuses herself, apologizing as she leaves the room. Clarke thinks this is silly as Lexa never told her what she was there for in the first place.

10 minutes later, however, as she is seated on the edge of her bed lacing up her boots, she feels the familiar throbbing between her legs before heat floods to her center and she leans backwards, one arm supporting her upright. She closes her eyes and hums as the orgasm courses through her, and she doesn’t fight at all when she sees Lexa in her mind’s eye. In fact, she sighs and her free hand slides between her legs. She rides out the orgasm that she knows came from someone else, and then launches herself into a another by her own hand.

This time, she pictures Lexa as she was just then, gaping at her from the doorway of her room. Only instead of retreating, Clarke imagines her striding towards her just as she moves to Lexa. They meet halfway and Clarke kisses the Commander hard, a mix of lust and that old hatred she keeps forgetting to hold on to. She imagines that Lexa picks her up and pins her to the wall. Clarke’s hand keeps working between her legs, her body already twitching in pleasure. It’s the thought of Lexa holding her against the wall, dipping to bite at her neck as she trails two slender fingers along Clarke’s hip bone that makes Clarke finally come undone. This time, she almost says Lexa’s name.

 

* * *

 

Its always after the fact that Clarke realizes exactly what kind of implications her pleasuring herself has. She sees Lexa in the hallway, and the Commander’s eyes glint differently than they used to. They no longer measure her, but she still feels naked.

She’s not sure if Lexa has figured it out yet, that Clarke is the one making her come undone without a physical touch. They begin to spend more time together, walking through the city or horseback riding in the surrounding woods. Lexa is polite and stoic as ever, but Clarke catches her eyes travelling over Clarke when she thinks she’s not looking. She sees the way Lexa’s eyes widen when Clarke shows her a scar on her hip, or the way her lips part and she lets out a shaky breath when they stand too close together.

Clarke isn’t immune to this newfound closeness either. One by one, her arguments for hating the Commander slip away, replaced by the reemergence of every reason why she was drawn to her in the first place. She watches Lexa interact with her people. She listens to her talk: the passion that laces her voice when she speaks of past battles is intoxicating. Clarke begins to forget why Lexa is supposed to be her enemy.

           

* * *

 

The third orgasm that she receives in Polis hit her in the early morning on her tenth day in the city. It’s the one that ultimately changes everything between her and Lexa, because this time she says the Commander’s name as she comes undone. And this time, she gets caught.

She is walking down the hallway toward Lexa’s chambers. As she approaches Lexa’s room, she hears a muffled groan coming from inside. She takes two steps closer, unsure how to proceed, when she hears it. The muffled groan turns into a loud gasp and there’s a noise that sounds faintly like-

“-arke…”

Clarke freezes in the hallway. Her brain short circuits at the sound of what she is forced to assume is Lexa calling her name in the most intimate way imaginable. She thinks briefly that she should turn and leave, but before she can move Lexa reaches her climax, and Clarke’s assumptions are proven correct as their shared orgasm hits her.

Its more potent than any of the previous ones, and a small part of her mind wonders if proximity has anything to do with it. That’s the end of coherent thought, however, as she slips to her knees in the hallway outside Lexa’s room, fighting not to make a noise as her muscles tense in ecstasy. She thinks she’ll cry out, as the throbbing between her legs increase. She almost whimpers when she feels the heat travel up her spine. But it is Lexa that eventually breaks her. Lexa’s final moan from the bedroom travels faintly into the hallway for Clarke to hear, making her mouth fall open as she gasps-

“Lexa--”

The orgasm ends soon afterwards, and she struggles to regain control over her body when she hears a voice above her.

“Clarke?”

Clarke whips her head up, and sure enough Lexa is standing in the entryway to her room, looking down at Clarke in shock. Clarke remembers when she had found Lexa in a similar position outside her bedroom several nights ago. She remembers how obvious it had been to her that Lexa had just reached climax. Clarke knows it must be just as obvious to Lexa now.

“Lexa, I-“ she tries to speak, but her breath catches, her body still reeling from the pleasure of a few moments ago. She doesn’t get a chance to speak again as Lexa says-

“I heard my name.”

Clarke’s eyes go wide and she thinks if she could ever wish for death, it would be now. Until she remembers what led to this moment.

“I heard mine first,” she replies, and she sees Lexa swallow thickly.

“Maybe we should talk inside…”

 Clarke nods and gets up, strength returning to her legs, although her heart still beats frantically.

Once inside Lexa’s bedroom, the Commander turns around and eyes Clarke warily.

“I apologize deeply, Clarke, for my indecency. I was not aware you were outside. Had I known, I would’ve-“

"Waited until later?” Clarke interjects.

Lexa’s eyes widen. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting, Clarke. This was a one-time occurrence, for which I am most humiliated. Please accept my-“

“Cut the bullshit, Lexa. I know this isn’t the first time. I feel it, same as you. Every single time.” Clarke steps towards the Commander. It feels like a familiar dance, but one she hasn’t danced since that day in the Commander’s tent. Before the kiss.

Lexa sees her approaching, and takes a step back.

"Clarke, you cannot possibly be suggesting that every time you… release, that I am responsible? Surely, there are others who-“ Lexa snaps her mouth shut, realizing her words a second too late.

"Others?” Clarke asks incredulously. It had never occurred to her that there could be others thinking about her so intimately as of late. No. The three orgasms she’d had in Polis, those that seemed to come out of nowhere… They had to be Lexa.

“I know it’s you, Lexa.”

Clarke has backed the Commander against a wall across from the entryway. Lexa’s eyes search Clarke’s face before she lifts her chin defiantly.

“And, what of it?”

The question catches Clarke by surprise. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but for Lexa to be so forward in admitting that she-

“So you admit it, then?”

"Admit what?”

“That you… you know…,” Clarke hesitates.

“If you cannot say it Clarke, you surely cannot expect me to take your claim seriously.”

Clarke narrows her eyes at the woman.

"You’ve been thinking about me. Intimately. It’s happened three times since I came to Polis. Each time you… release… I feel it too. Just as you feel it when I-“ Clarke clamps a hand over her mouth. Lexa’s eyebrows twitch upward.

“I’m flattered, Clarke.”

Clarke feels her temper flare. One second she had Lexa on the retreat and now this.

“You think about me when you pleasure yourself, Clarke. Just as I think about you. One might say it’s the highest form of flattery.”

"It’s not flattery!” Clarke exclaims, and Lexa takes a step towards her.

“Then what is it?”

In this close proximity, Clarke can’t help but glance at Lexa’s lips. She forgets what she had even meant to tell Lexa before this situation started. She’s almost forgotten the orgasm they shared only a few minutes ago, so caught up in being face-to-face with the other woman. But what she can’t forget is the fact that every single time she’s ever come undone, since the unexpected orgasms began, Lexa has always been there. In Clarke’s mind, as green eyes or brown hair or black war paint. As strong hands and deft fingers and eventually, a tangible image bringing her over the edge.

So Clarke does the only thing that feels right. She kisses her. Hard.

 

* * *

 

Her fourth orgasm in Polis comes not long after the third. This one is not at all unexpected. After days of sexual tension and months of repressed emotions, finally, Clarke lets go. From the moment she presses her lips to Lexa’s, she knows she’s a goner. The Commander kisses her back just at roughly as Clarke kisses her, pulling her to the large bed in the center of the room. The large bed in which, only minutes ago, Lexa had made herself come undone to thoughts of Clarke.

They fall together, a tangle of limbs, before Lexa rolls so that she is positioned above Clarke. She changes her pace, kissing Clarke slowly and meaningfully while she pulls off the blonde’s shirt. Clarke tugs at Lexa’s soon after, and they each take a moment to appreciate the other before pressing together again.

It isn’t long before Lexa has Clarke naked below her, grasping at the blankets on the bed as Lexa dips her head between Clarke’s thighs. After every thought of Lexa that she’d had when those orgasms hit her, as well as after every scenario she’d imagined when she’d touched herself, nothing compares to the feel of Lexa’s tongue on her. She comes with her back arched and one hand resting on Lexa’s head as the other woman continues to pleasure her even as she goes over the edge.

When her body recovers, she kisses Lexa again, tasting herself on the Commander’s lips, before flipping them and repaying the favor. Except, just as she is trailing her fingers down Lexa’s hips and between her thighs, an idea occurs to her.

“I want to watch you,” Clarke whispers. Lexa looks up at her with a puzzled glance before understanding dawns on her face. She nods before snaking her own hand down to meet Clarke’s.

Clarke doesn’t let her eyes leave Lexa’s face. Her hand follows Lexa’s as the woman begins to touch herself. Lexa’s head tilts back and her eyes roll back slightly. Clarke bites her lip at the sight of Lexa fucking herself, and then Lexa groans and Clarke hears the Commander say her name. She whimpers at the sound, and only has to wait several endless seconds longer before Lexa comes undone by her own hand.

Clarke feels Lexa’s climax course through her as if it were her own, and she is definitely convinced that proximity has something to do with the force of it all as she throws her head back and a strangled moan escapes her. She hunches forward, breathing heavy and body on fire, to see Lexa gasping for air as well.

The magnitude of what they’ve just done hits her, and for a moment she freezes, afraid that Lexa will push her off, declaring it a mistake. Afraid that she lets her walls down only to be broken again. Afraid she’s let herself get too close. Where did the hatred go? She can’t feel it anymore. Instead she feels warmth when she thinks of Lexa. It terrifies her. She wonders if Lexa can hear her heart pounding.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” the Commander breathes, and Clarke can’t find it in herself to be scared anymore.

Instead, she smiles devilishly. “And to think, all this time you’ve been missing it.”

And just like that something breaks between the two of them, and Lexa is laughing and Clarke it laughing and for the first time in months she feels happy.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until several days later that Clarke thinks to ask Lexa the question. They are standing in the hallway outside Clarke’s bedroom when she does.

“How long?”

Lexa blinks at her before shrugging and beginning to turn away.

“Why does it matter how long? The truth is out, and I’d say its done us both well,” the Commander replies.

“Lexa…,” Clarke groans, “just tell me.”

The other woman stares at Clarke for a moment, before rolling her eyes and sighing heavily.

“Since we met.”

“What?!” Clarke gasps, and Lexa actually begins to blush. “It’s been you, all along?”

“How should I know, Clarke, surely I can’t be the first person to picture you while they-“

Clarke slaps her arm, and forces Lexa to tell her about every time she thought of Clarke while she touched herself. Sure enough, it adds up that every unannounced orgasm Clarke has had was done by Lexa’s hand. The Commander mumbles something about “surely others” but after a warning glare from Clarke, she doesn’t press the issue again.

Lexa is turning away when Clarke remembers a particular moment from months ago. She pulls Lexa around to face her.

“After I killed Finn. Seriously?!”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “He was dead. The debt repaid.”

“And you thought it a good time to... you know? And thinking about me?!”

Lexa sighs again. “I have always been attracted to you Clarke. And there is no shame in seeking pleasure, even by one’s own hand.” With that, the Commander turns and walks down the hallway. Clarke only hesitates a moment before following after her.

“Lexa, wait! And after the Pauna too?! Really??”

They round a corner, Clarke’s voice echoing off the stone walls.

“Clarke, drop it.”

“And after the missile. The missile, Lexa. A village had just been destroyed!”

Lexa groans before rounding on Clarke.

“If you don’t stop…”

“What’re you going to do, Lexa, make me come?” Clarke’s eyebrows twitch upwards in amusement.

 

* * *

 

Several weeks later, when Clarke returns to the newly-named community of Arkadia, she meets with her mother and Kane for the first time in months. She is detailing to them the story of what happened after she left the camp, when she feels her legs buckle and familiar pleasure run through her.

“Clarke! Are you alright?” Her mother cries as Clarke gasps loudly and leans on the table with a shudder.

“S’fine, mom. I promise,” she says through clenched teeth.

“It’s obvious Lexa’s betrayal has done some serious damage, Clarke. You should rest and spend time with people who care about you,” her mother insists, before adding, “The Grounder Commander is nothing but trouble.”

The orgasm having passed through her quickly enough, Clarke chances a small smile and chuckles.

“You have no idea.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It is surprisingly difficult to write a story in which nothing takes place except multiple orgasms that the person doesn't even know are going to happen, let me tell ya.
> 
> I'm drank-in-lurve on tumblr if you want to say hi or scold me for writing nothing but repetitive scenes of Clarke Griffin orgasming, its cool man. Thanks for reading, comments are always welcome, and let's all survive season 3 together.


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